


Fire and Forgive

by DoreyG



Series: Sacred and Wild [4]
Category: Frey & McGray Series - Oscar de Muriel
Genre: Denial of Feelings, Developing Relationship, Emotional Baggage, M/M, POV Outsider, Post Book 3, Talking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-12
Updated: 2018-11-12
Packaged: 2019-08-22 15:59:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,022
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16601081
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DoreyG/pseuds/DoreyG
Summary: "For God'ssake!" I exploded, thoroughly sick of this fussy little man and his habit of scornfully raising his nose at every little thing. I had no idea what McGray could possibly see in him, and if they had not both helped to save my Irving from ruin then I would've happily washed my hands of the entire business. "Let me beabsolutelyclear, Mr Frey: I know very well that we are both the kind of men who like being fucked by other men, and areproudof it!"





	Fire and Forgive

When I made my way down the stairs to the basement I found myself relieved that only Frey, Sat in his uncomfortable chair, glaring at a pad of paper with a look of sulky concentration, waited at the bottom. Don't get me wrong, I _far_ prefer the company of his esteemed colleague and - perhaps - lover, but in this particular case I had estimated Frey to be the more responsive target.

"Mr Stoker!" He leapt to his feet immediately when I cleared my throat, frowned at me for a long moment before he remembered the importance of basic manners and hurried over. "I thought you had left for London already."

"I leave on the morrow. So there is no need to worry, Mr Frey," I said, staring at him pointedly. It took a moment for the notion, simple as it was, to penetrate his skull. But eventually he waved begrudgingly at the seat across from him, and allowed me to sink down off my still healing leg. "I come only because I have one final matter to discuss with you before I depart."

"If you're going to ask for more information about the case, or my account of it..." He said warningly, sinking into his own chair and giving me a look that was doubtlessly meant to be intimidating but that instead ended up simply petulant in the manner of a young child.

"I am well aware of the intricacies of the case, Mr Frey, I _was_ present for the vast majority of it," I said, a touch acidly. Otherwise I ignored his absurd posturing, refused to dignify it with even the briefest roll of my eyes. The only way to fix immaturity is to rise above it, after all. "No, this is about a more personal matter. The relationship between you and inspector McGray."

His reaction convinced me, briefly, that perhaps he was less of a fool than I thought. His cheeks coloured just slightly, but otherwise his expression remained coolly impassive. "We don't like each other, but we have still managed to solve three serious cases within the space of a year and a few more minor ones besides. Are you going into the business of auditing the police now, Mr Stoker? As _talented_ as you doubtlessly are, I am not sure it is a path that'd suit you."

"I don't mean _that_ , you ridiculous popinjay," I snapped, with a touch of disgust. _Really_ , the man seemed determined to stop you from liking him for more than a moment. I would've been worried about his self esteem, if I wasn't so thoroughly sick of his presence. "Look, you are aware that I am a good friend of Oscar Wilde himself. Yes?"

"I am not sure what this has to do with the matter of, ah, police auditing," He said, his tone frosty and his expression aristocratic. "But _do_ go on."

I gritted my teeth, counted to ten before I could give in to the temptation to just sink my fist into his face and walk out. Glanced at the door to make sure that it was firmly shut before turning back to him and carrying on in a quieter tone, "you must also be aware, after your investigations, of the depth of my feelings for Irving."

"Again," he said, his tone even frostier but a slight - barely perceptible - alarm rising in his eyes. "I am not sure-"

"For God's _sake_!" I exploded, thoroughly sick of this fussy little man and his habit of scornfully raising his nose at every little thing. I had no idea what McGray could possibly see in him, and if they had not both helped to save my Irving from ruin then I would've happily washed my hands of the entire business. "Let me be _absolutely_ clear, Mr Frey: I know very well that we are both the kind of men who like being fucked by other men, and are _proud_ of it!"

His face blanched, and I wondered - for just a moment - if I had pressed a little too hard. I waited for him to deny it, to yell at me, to even - perhaps - revile me as some kind of pervert and summon a constable to throw me into the nearest dungeon.

But he didn't. After a long moment he licked his lips, and peered down at his hands with a fixed kind of absorption. "I also like _fucking_ other men, for the record."

"I have no interest in your private tastes, Mr Frey," I snapped, entirely honestly. A part of me regretted my firm tone. A far larger part of me, shamefully, took a certain pleasure in bringing him down a peg. "The only thing that I have a mild, an _exceptionally_ mild, interest in is how those habits relate to inspector McGray."

He lifted his head to stare at me for a moment, his expression sulky yet again but his eyes surprisingly stricken. And then sat back in his chair, and crossed his arms defensively over his chest. "They don't relate."

" _Frey_ -"

"They _can't_ relate," he said, his voice low enough to almost be a whisper. Even now I don't know what the man was thinking, but there was a helpless sorrow in his eyes that simply couldn't be faked. "I will tell you this, but only because I am being forced into doing so: we share the same inclinations, we are aware of these inclinations and we have even acted upon said inclinations a few times. But I cannot let them go any further than that."

I am too soft hearted, Irving never fails to tell me so. Looking at the barely hidden misery on his face, I couldn't help but take pity on him. "Why can't you?"

He started, stared up at me again. I recall no anger on his face, only shock at hearing such a question put to him so boldly. "I'm sorry?"

"You obviously want to," I told him, making my voice gentle. I have not spent so long by Irving's side without knowing how to use a softer touch, and _when_ to deploy that softer touch to best effect. "So you must have reasons for not allowing yourself to. What are they?"

He hesitated for a second, staring at me warily. Shifted uncomfortably in his seat, before trying to assume that haughty expression of scorn yet again. "How on earth would _you_ know what I want?"

"Because if you didn't want him, you wouldn't drag him off and allow him to kiss you at a public ball," I said firmly, still keeping my tone as gentle as I could but unwilling to let him bluster up and turn the world off its axis again. "If you didn't want him, you wouldn't sit there and look like your own heart was being carved out of your chest. If you didn't want him, you wouldn't be worrying about your feelings towards him whatsoever."

He blanched again, and looked back at his hands. I waited him out patiently, more secure this time in the knowledge of his carefully hidden bravery. "You're smarter than you look, Mr Stoker."

"Thank you," I said levelly, keeping my tone kind only with severe effort. Even at his most vulnerable, the man still provoked certain violent urges within me. "Now, would you be smart yourself and actually answer my question?"

"...Before I came here, I had everything," he said quietly, after a pause so long that I feared that he'd resorted to ignoring me altogether. "I had a promising career, a beautiful fiancee, the respect of my peers and a glorious future spreading out before me. And then, in one day, I lost absolutely everything. Now the only thing I have left is this job, and I _can't_ lose that too."

I stared at him, that uncomfortable sense of pity continuing to rise within me. It was unfortunate, quite frankly. I found myself rather wishing that I was a less sensitive person. "And you think that allowing yourself to act on your attraction to McGray will cause you to lose that?"

"I have to work with him. He's my superior, I have to see his face every single day." Frey buried his face in his hands so that I couldn't see it, shook his head so hard that his dark hair fanned itself over his fingers and obscured him even further. "If I allow myself to feel for him, as I _could_ feel for him... I would be distracted, I would be weak. I would lose focus, and everything would fall apart."

"It's that bad," I said, unable to stop my tone from becoming faintly wondering. "Then?"

"Every time I look at him I want to wrap myself around him in the most intimate sense, every time I hear his voice I want to kiss him, every time I even _think_ of him this disgusting warmth rises in my chest," he said morosely, head still buried in his hands. He sounded slightly muffled, if the situation hadn't been so obviously fraught for him I would've probably asked him to speak up a little. "Imagine how much worse it'd get if I slept with him more than _twice_?"

I absorbed this, thoughtfully. To be perfectly honest, I hadn't even needed to hear him speak. I could see his feelings, spread out clearly for anybody to see. He was quite clearly tearing himself apart over this. And as much as I liked passion, as much as I adored the drama inherent in such a tortured love affair... "It might make things better."

" _What_?"

"You might as well have the pleasure, as well as the pain," I pointed out, as he sharply lifted his head from his hands and fixed me with an incredulous look. "You obviously feel the same way about each other. If you know what you're looking for, it's perfectly easy to see. And if that's the case then why shouldn't you try to find a little pleasure, in this world of murderers and madmen?"

Frey was staring at me like I'd just informed him that unicorns existed, and then asked him if he wanted to be the first person to ride one. But even through his obvious scorn, a brittle hope was rising in his eyes that just couldn't be denied. "Did you not hear everything I just said about the risks?"

"As far as I see it, you're already living with them," I said, biting back a small smile as his forehead wrinkled as if trying to work out whether there was a hidden insult in my words. "So you might as well throw all caution to the wind."

"Mr. Stoker-"

"Some risks are worth taking, Mr Frey," I said bluntly, and leaned forwards to look him right in the eye. He flinched back a little, as if he wanted to jump to his feet and flee, but to my pleasure met my gaze as levelly as he could. "You could be distracted, yes. You could be pilloried, or slandered, or have your heart broken into little pieces... But you could also be happy, truly happy for the first time in your life."

He fell silent. Simply stared at me with wide eyes, an unfathomable expression upon his face.

"I understand wanting to be safe. I understand picturing your life a certain way, and feeling terrified when it doesn't match up," I continued, just as gentle as before. "But sometimes you have to set that all aside, and start actually living instead."

"...Thank you, Mr Stoker," he said eventually, his tone faintly hoarse. The hope in his eyes was almost shining now, a beacon that I couldn't help but look at with a decent amount of pride. "You are surprisingly wise, for an Irishman."

He was a stupid man, a hidebound fool whose arrogance left a sour taste even in my mouth. But as I looked at him, sitting there and smiling slightly as if something had suddenly aligned in his confused mind, I could not help but hope that this stupid man would gather himself to find his own happy ending after all.


End file.
